#thank you to anyone who read all this

[mecub]

Is it normal to feel angry when the people around you fall in love? Like, I love my friends and I’m happy and proud that their crushes worked out and they have partners, and it’s not like they’re leaving me behind at all, but I’m angry for some reason?

Maybe it’s because they have something I literally can’t have? I’m ok with not having a romantic partner ever, but maybe less ok than I thought?

[stil-lindigo]

warmth.

a comic about not being alone.

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creative notes:

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[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

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Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

[starflungwaddledee]

from: @starflungwaddledee to: @post-it-notes7

message from santa: "happy holidays post-it-notes! 🎄🥳 i know you very politely only wished for a few modest things- characters high fiving, or struggling in christmas attire- but i hope you'll still enjoy this given that i kinda went the opposite direction entirely! i'm an enormous fan of your work and most times you post anything i wind up browsing your art tag from tip-to-tail in enraptured delight. as such, i thought it was only fair i give back something a little more significant in gratitude for all the joy your work has given me. i knew i wanted to do a comic, so i was thrilled you already had a whole storyverse for me to work from!! this scene seemed the most obvious choice (chapter 8 of "wishful thinking" on ao3) given that i enjoy a dramatic fight scene 😂 i tried to stick as beat-by-beat to the writing as i could and worked in as many details as possible; i hope it'll be fun to see it envisioned this way! merry christmas! ~starflung 🎀🔔 "

[themeeplord]

Recently I've noticed that people have been drawing my monster dca designs (e.g. cryptid Eclipse and moth Moon) without giving me credit or mentioning me. I want to make it clear that I want to be credited when you draw my designs.

I've worked very hard on all of them (especially cryptid Eclipse who I've spent a large part of this year designing) and they're all very important to me.

Seeing the designs being used without credit is honestly very disheartening and demotivating.. so please, if you draw them (which I'm completely fine with btw!) please credit me.

[turquoisemagpie]

Appreciate the little things.

Not to ignorantly deny all of the big bad things in the world, but to survive them.

[sevensoulmates]

Buddie 7x01 Meta

Okay! Finally, I was able to watch the full episode uninterrupted and have had a couple days to gather my thoughts. Quite simply this episode was fucking fantastic. My meta does sometimes include some spec, so if that's not your thing feel free to ignore those parts. Those of you who follow me know I write long ass essays, so fair warning for a long meta under the cut. ((Also idk how to make gifs, so enjoy my shitty screenshots)).

First, I love to see Buck and Eddie back at it again in their natural element being partners on a scene.

This was very obviously a call back to season 2, even down to the positioning, having Buck watch Eddie be competent in defusing a bomb. Buck has complete faith in Eddie's abilities, it's the fighter pilot whom he distrusts. In the end, they narrowly avoid getting blown up, just like they did in 2x01. This one scene re-establishes the Buck/Eddie work dynamic and shows how they inherently trust each other on and off the field.

Next, we get a scene of Buck and Eddie getting dressed in the locker room. Notably, Buck is fully dressed and Eddie is without his shirt until halfway through the scene. Buck also keeps his eyes on Eddie's naked torso pretty much through the whole shirtless section. This is another blatant callback to season 2x01 when Buck's first introduction to Eddie is when he's shirtless. This draws attention specifically to Eddie's physical attractiveness and how that affects Buck. This scene is odd to have with Eddie half-naked if we're then gonna make comments later on about "sexual tension" with friends, no?

In the same scene we are reintroduced to Buck and Eddie's separate love lives. Eddie is just now learning that Buck and Natalia broke up, and gives an odd facial expression that looks far too much like vindication. We know from the graveyard scene in 6x17 that Eddie wasn't really a fan of Buck's relationship with Natalia (I don't think there's ever been a relationship Buck's had where Eddie has legitimately been happy about it, which is weird if they're just friends, right?) so to him, this was always coming down the road. He seems proud that Buck was able to end it this easily.

Meanwhile, Eddie's going on a "not-date" with Marisol to chaperone Christopher's date with Penny. It's telling to me that Eddie doesn't classify this as a date with Marisol, but Buck does. Buck considers being at home watching Christopher as a date, and yet he seemingly doesn't classify all the times he's been over at Eddie's hanging out with just him and Chris to be a date? To me, this shows the first big disconnect in Buck/Eddie's brains that the show will likely dismantle this season: what is classified as platonic and what is classified as romantic, and which gender is allowed to be in each category. We'll come back to this when we get to the next scene.

Eddie is very supportive of Buck breaking up with Natalia. He doesn't say it directly to his face, but it's implied that Buck really lost himself when he was with Natalia, hence Eddie's "Welcome back to the land of the living". While Buck did struggle with figuring out his life purpose at the end of season 6, he falsely prescribed that purpose to Natalia. Thankfully, this was rectified here. This also shows significant growth for Buck from his last relationship with Taylor Kelly. Buck was able to identify issues in his relationship quicker and was able to cut the relationship short when he realized it was no longer healthy to maintain for him. I am extremely proud of Buck in this moment, as is Eddie, which is the first of two big moments in this episode where Buck and Eddie really showcase their pride in the other's personal growth. "You were missed" is such a simple yet perfect line for Eddie to give to Buck. To show Buck that Eddie has always seen him, and will always see him, even through personal lows, and will still remain by his side when they come out the other side. I really love this showcase of unconditional love here.

The next time we see Buck and Eddie, the chaperone date has already passed. Eddie and Marisol are seen watching Chris and Penny from behind the wall, but it's highkey awkward to watch and the focus of this scene is really not Eddie/Marisol but rather Chris and Penny and Eddie relaying this info to Buck. I first want to point out that we don't actually get to see Eddie/Marisol's first date, we don't see any subsequential dates, and the first time we DO see her, in an episode meant to be establishing couples, she's so blink-and-you'll-miss-it that I had to try 3 times to get this screenshot because it went by so fast. It's never a good sign when we don't actually get to see the beginnings of a non-established relationship.

Additionally, Eddie/Marisol's relationship is framed WITHIN Eddie recounting the night to BUCK. The important Eddie relationship we're supposed to be paying attention to in this scene is not Eddie/Marisol but Eddie and Buck's. It's not important for us to see Eddie and Marisol hanging out, but it IS important for us to see Eddie TELLING Buck about the night. That isn't insignificant. This means the show is clearly placing far more importance on Eddie/Buck than on Marisol, and for a pointed reason to be revealed hopefully later this season.

This is the only line that Marisol has in the entire episode. This being the one line she has is interesting because it's a callback to Eddie's arc last season ie. "Eddie has no game with women". Christopher makes a pointed comment about it in 6x18. And of course, it's a callback to Performance Anxiety 6x14 where Eddie was being pressured about dating women and 6x17 Love Is In The Air where he once again pressures himself into dating women until he finally settles on Marisol. It's an interesting call back to have, considering this scene could have been considered Eddie successfully dating a woman. And of course this ties into later in this episode where we get the "turning women off" comment, which I'll talk more about later.

Eddie goes on to tell Buck that he didn't really see any difference between Christopher hanging out with his male friends vs hanging out with his female friends. This is drawing attention to two things. The first is a call-back to Buck and Eddie's previous scene where we saw that Buck and Eddie have two different ideas of what constitutes "a date" when it's with a man versus a woman. Buck thinks that an at-home date with Marisol to watch Chris counts as a date, Eddie doesn't. Yet Buck doesn't consider his own at-home "hang-outs" with Eddie and Chris to be a date despite them being far more frequent and more meaningful than what we just saw with Marisol. Eddie also doesn't see it that way. This line is an indicator that both Buck and Eddie have blinders on currently when it comes to their interactions with each other, interactions which very much COULD be considered a date (including the later mentioned "underlying sexual tension") if they had done the same thing with a woman. They're just unable to recognize the truth of it at the moment, and this is clearly demonstrated when Eddie can't tell the difference between Chris having his date with his male friends vs. female. My prediction is that this will become more defined for Eddie by the end of the season or leading into next season.

But it's very interesting that this idea of not being able to recognize the possibility of romance except for the heteronormative options is coming into play now because there's really only one gay way to subvert that.

Which is then doubled down by Buck in the very next scene.

This is blatantly not a true statement. Buck is not only assuming Chris's sexuality, but he's assuming the same would be the case in general, which is not true. Buck knows many queer people, but at the same time, every queer person he knows canonically falls more into the gay-lesbian binary, and not really anywhere in the middle (ie. bi/pan people). It's an oddly heteronormative statement coming from Buck, who is known to be very open-minded and also researches a shit ton? So why are we being shown that Buck has this sort of narrow-mindedness specifically when it comes to the possibility of people being bisexual?

(Spec) Firstly, I think this is to set up for a bisexual Buck arc. It's showing that Buck actually 1.) hasn't ever been with a man before so this is not just a casual bi reveal and 2.) that he's never actually considered it a possibility to have sexual tension with a man before. This is what we in writing call "the character's fundamental misbelief" and it is brought in specifically to be challenged, and I'm near-positive it will be at some point in the season.

Secondly, On the surface, this statement is telling the audience that obviously Christopher would only have tension with his female friends, right? (sarcasm). But what's interesting is that this statement is purposefully gender-neutral. It leaves the real meaning up to the audience to decide. Why? Because this part of the conversation is not really about Christopher. On the surface, yes, but beneath that, this line and the line before it are about Eddie and Buck's relationship with each other. Buck's not out here talking about Christopher having sexual tension with people, and even Eddie recognizes that it's weird to talk about in relation to their child. He's still in the nest for christ's sake! These lines are in relation to Buck and Eddie's friendship and how both of them are blind to the fact that it very much IS possible to have sexual tension with your female AND male friends.

And this is where the gender-neutrality of that phrase gets extra interesting. Because as we've seen before, Buck and (more prominently) Eddie often lack chemistry with their female love interests. It's up for debate, but the general consensus was that most people did not feel any chemistry between Buck/Natalia, and Eddie/Ana or Eddie/Marisol. What's fascinating is that Buck has had chemistry with some of his female love interests, but Eddie hasn't had any since Shannon (and this is not an endorsement of Eddie/Shannon's romantic relationship. I'm not getting into the extreme nuances of that right now.) Some argue Eddie's had chemistry with Felisa or Vanessa, but they aren't the ones Eddie's dating right now, are they? So Eddie, unlike Buck with his female LI's, hasn't really had any sexual tension with Ana or Marisol. The only person that (most) people agree Eddie has had sexual tension with is Buck. And we had a scene with them earlier with Buck watching a half-naked Eddie change too. So in this case, the line might also be a reference to Eddie having chemistry with men, but not really with any of his female LI's. I think the purposeful vagueness here though was a very telling choice on Tim's part.

Additionally, the use of the word "underlying". Underlying implies that the sexual tension isn't overt, but rather is something that lingers unspoken. Under the surface. Subtextual, if you will. Of course, it's possible to have subtextual sexual tension between an M/F pairing. But placing it in the context of this scene, where Buck is being weirdly heteronormative, it feels contradictory. If Buck believes that he (and Chris by proxy) can only have sexual tension with a female friend, why is it something that is hidden under the surface? If anything, due to heteronormativity, the sexual tension between a boy and girl should be plain as day for anyone to see, on the surface, very much textual and with no room for interpretation (ie. "He was a boy, she was a girl, could I make it any more obvious?"). But let's flip this around. With queer pairings and couplings, there's a huge history of their sexual tension and romance only being able to live and breathe in the subtext. This line being spoken between two men that many people for years have pointed out are heavily queer-coded and have a romantically-coded "bro" relationship with each other that so far has only been able to exist in subtext? Tim, you're not sly. I see right through you.

After that, Eddie tells Buck about Christopher seeing 5 girls at the same time. Everyone's shocked and Eddie insinuates that Christopher didn't get this from him. By pointing out that Buck is a reformed playboy (I personally disagree with aspects of this statement but that's neither here nor there), Eddie is implying that Christopher may potentially be getting this trait from Buck. Which is an interesting thing to say to someone if they're not already heavily involved in the process of raising your child. Eddie claims that he's a "nester", which in my mind means someone who is very paternal/maternal, or constantly trying to build the home or the family. ((Sidebar: I googled nesting and apparently it's ALSO a term used in both polyamorous spaces and was later separately coined as a term referring to "where men treat women like they’re in a relationship, but they expect those women to know that it will never lead to real one." I don't interpret this line to mean either of those other definitions, I just think it's interesting that this is what popped up when I googled Nesting)).

Eddie then says he "married the first girl he dated" and Buck instantly volleys back with "think you mean slept with", which is EXTREMELY telling of a few things. First, I want to point out, that I don't believe this is Buck denouncing or disrespecting Shannon's important role in Eddie or Chris's life, but rather recontextualizing it.

We got clarification last season that Eddie fell into his relationship with Shannon almost in the same way that he fell into one with Ana and Marisol. It was heavily implied that Shannon was the pursuer, the one who made their relationship happen. Not Eddie. While Eddie was a little less passive with Ana and Marisol, being the one to ask both of them out, he still exhibits extreme passivity in the furthering of each of these relationships, preferring to "stick it out" rather than actually end it when it's not working. This is the exact same thing he did with Shannon. It's interesting that Buck argues that Eddie married the first girl he slept with rather than the first girl he dated.

Dating someone implies you really genuinely want to form a deep romantic relationship with someone (ie. call back to Buck's line to Maddie "at least when I date someone, I date them"), whereas sleeping with someone does not have to immediately mean wanting to be with them romantically. To me, this implies that while Eddie might've deeply loved Shannon as a friend and eventual mother of his child later and had sexual chemistry with her, the reason why he stayed with her is not because he wanted to continue dating her or being with her because he was IN LOVE with HER but rather because they slept together. And what came about from sleeping with her? A fucking traumatic teen pregnancy.

Both Buck AND Eddie recognize that in this scene (which is huge, especially for Eddie). I'm kinda blown away honestly. It's extremely important for the audience to see that while Eddie did, does and will always love Shannon, it is NOT romantic love, and may have not ever been. Which is FINE. They were literal teenagers for god's sake.

This is once again a recurring theme in Buck and Eddie's story in this episode. Defining what is considered romantic and what is considered platonic AND the possibility of redefining those distinctions years later. And it's interesting that in this case with Shannon, a woman, it's finally being acknowledged that it might not have been as romantic as Eddie may have believed for all these years.

Eddie then asks Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about his relationship indiscretions. We see Eddie making the active choice to bring Buck deeper into the co-parenting role that's already been established in seasons 2-6. Right after Eddie talks about being a nester, a home-builder, he brings Buck deeper into his family in a parental role. To me, this scene doesn't imply that Eddie can't do it, or that it's out of his wheelhouse, but rather because he feels like Christopher might relate to Buck more about this. But even more so, it shows that Eddie inherently trusts Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about this, because he's seen how Buck has grown over the years.

Eddie doesn't want Christopher to continue making bad choices in life and he tries to convey this to Buck, but Buck, with his own self-esteem issues, assumes that Eddie doesn't want Christopher to end up like Buck. Which is fascinating because Buck's made it a huge point throughout the series to show that he's grown past his sleeping-around phase (which was never about disrespecting or using women, it was always about Buck's own desire for love and connection that he felt he could only get through sex). And yet with this line, we see that Buck still doesn't realize how far he's come. He still feels like he isn't worth emulating or being someone to look up to. But Eddie does. Eddie sees and loves Buck to his core, and so he points it out to Buck that no, Buck actually didn't become that person, and that Buck is, in fact, worthy of being the one to parent Christopher in this situation. Once again, this is a great moment of showing how these two are able to see past their facades to the truth of each other's issues and provide strength, reassurance, and clarity to each other, as an ideal life partner would be able to do.

Then we get to see this amazing scene of Eddie talking down a panicking woman using his own unique "jello" methods. This coping mechanism tool he walks her through really does sound like something a therapist might teach their patient. Eddie not only is able to admit to having panic attacks but he's able to do it in front of strangers and his team alike with no shame (even a bit of pride at the end). This scene, which could've gotten very awkward very fast, ended up becoming a very sweet, serene moment where we also get to see that love reflected on Buck's face just how proud he is of how far Eddie has come. This episode made a point to show Buck and Eddie recognizing the other's growth and their pride in the other, as well as demonstrate how both are able to be there for the other emotionally in their times of need.

What's interesting is that this is all stuff that we've seen before. Buck and Eddie have been each other's emotional pillars for many years now. This is just a re-establishing episode. We know that this season their relationship is going to be shifting, growing, and showing a new side to it. So I'm intrigued to see how that will manifest given that we have already seen in one episode how Buck and Eddie are each other's closest person. Some might argue that this episode actually frames them to be closer and more emotionally supportive of each other than two of the other canonically romantic couples on the show.

Bathena are shown to be having marital problems in this episode, with Athena worrying she and Bobby might not actually have that much in common outside of the chaos. Madney is shown with pre-martial problems, with Chimney unnecessarily worrying he and Maddie's spark might fizzle out over the years and they might grow to resent each other. I'm not saying either of these relationship problems is really accurate, but it's just interesting to look at in comparison to how Buck and Eddie were framed in this episode, despite not being in a canonical romantic relationship at the moment.

This exchange absolutely took me the fuck out. Because this line did not need to be there. Even for the giggles. It could've even been a line of Buck being sincere and saying that he's proud of Eddie or something. Instead, we get this. "I've never seen a man turn a woman off with such skill". This line connected with the line from Marisol are both callbacks to Eddie's series-long issue with dating women. We get this in conjunction with Buck pointing out that Eddie doesn't really date these women he's in relationships with. He's just with them due to circumstances. Even if the circumstances are of his own making (which could be a symptom of compulsory heterosexuality). Eddie has never once talked about dating women like he's actually attracted to women. I'm so sorry. AND combined with the line where Buck and Eddie actually acknowledge that Eddie wasn't really with Shannon because he wanted to be with her but because of the family they accidentally created. All of this in ONE episode leading up to this line where it's heavily implied that Eddie's skill is his inability to turn women on, and to actually be able to turn them all the way off. And I'm just going to say it, but this line HEAVILY implies queerness. This is the kind of line you'd expect someone to say to a gay man or someone who doesn't actually want the sexual attention of a woman. This, again, in conjunction with Eddie not being able to tell the difference between a date with a woman vs. a man, is all too pointed.

This line alone in a vacuum could maybe not mean queerness, but alongside the whole rest of the episode where beat after beat after beat implies that Eddie has in fact NEVER been in a relationship with a woman 100% of his own active desire for her as a person and not just for what she can provide to his or his son's life?

This points to a very particular direction with Eddie that I'm expecting to see him fight against really hard this season. I would not be surprised if he ends up holding onto Marisol as the last shreds of perceived "normalcy" (ie. heterosexuality) are being threatened. Hopefully, he'll be able to reconcile the truth by the end of the season or going into season 8.

God this is so long and we haven't even gotten to the buddifer scene yet. This part will be a bit more condensed because I'm not really analyzing Chris as a character here or his relationship with Shannon. Maybe I will later.

I'm really loving seeing Christopher become his own person this season. But what really fascinates me here is Chris as a parallel to both Buck and Eddie. Christopher's abandonment trauma is starting to manifest in him through his choices with his love life. The same thing happened with Buck and with Eddie individually. Buck's trauma growing up informed his choices of sleeping around and seeking love from a myriad of individuals who didn't necessarily have his best interest at heart. Eddie's trauma manifested in him being so self-sacrificing that he can't ever choose a relationship for himself, but it always has to be in service of someone else or in pursuit of a perceived "Normal" standard.

In this case with Chris, his trauma is manifesting in a way more similar to Buck's, which is another reason why it's so perfect to see Buck being the one to discuss this with Chris, even though they don't necessarily delve too deep into it. There's no question Buck sees his own issues reflected in Chris. This has been true since 4x08 Breaking Point when Chris runs to Buck's house and confides in Buck his worries about people leaving him. Chris demonstrates a similar issue that Buck and Eddie both hold individually. That being the notion that "it doesn't matter what I do, or how good of a person I am, or how good of a partner I am, I am not worth staying for."

But the difference here is that Eddie and Buck, like the amazing co-parents they are, recognize the problem and take steps to address Christopher's trauma in a way that gives Chris autonomy and isn't condescending or out to make Christopher feel bad about making mistakes. The Buckley parents and the Diaz parents both failed Buck and Eddie in these ways because they blamed their children, never actually took the time to see the underlying issues let alone address them, and made them feel like everything was their fault, even going so far as to actively put their children down over and over and over again. Eddie and Buck get the beautiful chance to break the cycle here with Chris and get to be the parents that they never had.

It was so amazing to watch this episode with Buck and Eddie being supportive partners to each other and supportive parents to Christopher. It was an episode of growth just as much as it was an episode of reintroduction to a new audience. It was also extremely telling of what the future conflicts and themes will likely continue to be for Buck and Eddie for the rest of this season. I'm so excited to see what the rest of this season brings! And thank you from the bottom of my heart, ABC.

[itsdefinitely]

If it's okay you should totally draw Richie being possessed/Is Wiggly-

Also I love your art style so much it's so adorable!

“That’s how it works, he promises to fix all the holes, but he doesn’t.”

[my-fancy-hat]

I said asa needed a mother rather than a bf to supply her emotional needs. Well... she always had a mother figure since the start

Arms extended, letting her child go and live/calling for their children to come and die

[citrushomie]

gumiku as this photo i found on pinterest

[jackslocket]

I GUESS THAT'S HOW ITS DONE!

[thedevillionaire]

Chosen

Much shorter than it has any right to be, given how long it's taken me to actually finish. Plot? Uh, no, not really. But anyhow... She's been away. He's been unwell.

---

He looks at her like she’s the most welcome hallucination he’s ever had.

Kia closes the door slowly behind her as she takes in this chaos of a makeshift apothecary, the loungeroom in an utter state of disarray and her beloved not faring much better, red-nosed and unshaven and dressed in a black silken pyjama and robe ensemble which, while inarguably stylish, was very definitely not his usual late afternoon wear.

And not at all what she had been expecting to come home to.

A miscellany of potions and concoctions and gods-know-what-elses lie scattered across the coffee table. A teacup, mostly empty. Two tissue boxes, one apparently even emptier than the teacup. Some sort of book...no, manual. Looks instructional. A wilderness of failed curatives.

Oh my god.

She walks further into the room. The air smells of menthol and embers.

“Babe, what are… Are you… What have you even been doing h…?”

You absolute beautiful total disaster.

“Trying not to… hh-HH …let thi…this-damn-cold…” Cerberus turns from her as his sentence dissolves, the syllables collapsing against one another in a desperate rush to give way to greater need and deep breath of purpose, and he raises a finger in urgent, undeniable pause. "Huh-TSSCH-uu!" Hurriedly claiming a series of tissues in a brief, expectant hiatus, he surrenders completely and sneezes again. "Hh-AATSCHH-uu! *snff-FF!*" A quiet groan in the aftermath. He excuses himself, adds another tissue to the set, blows his nose and immolates the lot. "Pardon me." He sighs. "Trying not to let this godsdamned cold win,” he manages, with an accompanying sharp sniffle. Neither heavy congestion nor the way his voice cracks slightly lessens any of the seething distaste in his tone.

“Oh, honey.” Kia brushes some errant hair back from his face. :Bless you.: She touches a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re getting your ass kicked.”

She offers him a soft smile to hopefully lessen a little bit of truth's sting. "C'mon, shift over," she says gently as she joins her beloved on the couch, nestling up beside him, resolutely ignoring every caution he tries to give her advising against doing so. Notably half-hearted as those cautions are.

Because while it’s true that he very much doesn’t want her to catch this, he’s also well aware it’s more than likely already too late for such concerns. The entire house is probably some sort of incubation epicentre. And, sincerity of expressed warnings aside, the entire sorry vista surely constitutes warning enough. He's fairly certain he couldn't look more biohazardous if he tried.

Cerberus sighs again, sniffling again immediately afterwards, and gives his bonded a look of resignation.

Further elaboration hardly seems necessary.

But also he doesn’t press the issue because in truth the last thing he wants is to send her away. He’s not even sure he has the energy to insist on it, anyway; he’d be infuriated about this entire ridiculous circumstance if he wasn’t so damn exhausted. So, small obligatory protests done, with another damp sniffle Cerberus shifts some disarrayed blanketry out of the way and wraps an arm around Kia’s waist, drawing her close.

Her soft perfume of violet, strawberry and vanilla is lost on him anywhere outside of memory right now, but her presence is more than enough and he closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the simple fact of her being here beside him at last; he's missed her immensely, constantly.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to come back, if you wanted me here,” Kia muses as she nestles further into his heat, adding, “It wouldn't have been a big deal,” without accusation. She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him with gentle azure gaze, her unspoken thoughts of I’d always choose you. How do you still not know that? readable despite her not voicing them.

And he does, of course, know that – in fact, it’s the very reason he wouldn’t ask. Cerberus sniffles thickly, wiping his nose. “Ah, love. I'd hardly ask you to put yourself anywhere near this—" He gestures around the room in a general presentation of contempt for the whole situation. "—vortex of infectious absurdity,” he concludes, thick congestion lacing his words. He clears his throat but it doesn’t make any notable impact against the wreckery his voice has become. "And it's about your... *SNFF!* ...your autodoby."

Kia peers at him. “My…what?”

“Your au…” Cerberus, all too aware that several critical consonants are unequivocally not working for him, rolls his eyes at himself. Honestly. Taking another fresh succession of tissues from a very rapidly depleting supply, he blows his nose forcefully but completely ineffectively.

He excuses himself once more and tries again; it goes equally badly.

Kia, baffled, raises her hands in a friendly but very clear nope sorry babe no idea expression, accompanied by a gentle little laugh that she just can’t help.

A long-suffering and immensely frustrated look comes her way, followed by a resigned, defeated sigh as her beloved entirely gives up. “Free will.”

For a moment, this makes even less sense to Kia. “Why would…” she begins, but cuts herself off in triumphant realisation. “Oh, autonomy!” She laughs. "Oh, sweetheart."

“That’s what I s… hh-hh! I...” And even this is hijacked, and the Demon king capitulates entirely, doubling over desperate into crooked elbow, “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!” 

He takes some moments of bleary recovery, Kia's heartrate spiking alongside the :Gods, forgive me: Cerberus Mindsends her.

"Oh, bless you, babe." Kia doesn't try to fight the thrill that flashes through her and she wraps herself around her bonded to kiss him again; a kiss deeper, more needful, than is probably wise. But wisdom isn't what she's craving right now.

“You know what? You’re going to stop talking and let me make my own choices.” She brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes, touches the softest of lingering kisses to his forehead and meets his gaze. :Talking really isn't working out for you anyway.: "And besides—" Another kiss, deeper again, and she presses her arousal against his, salacious, wanton.

:—you know we both want the same thing.:

---

[stil-lindigo]

the machine.

a comic about being a 'creator' online.

creative notes:

[ao3-shenanigans]

Hey do you know dipper goes to tacobell

*deepest sigh* yes I do, unfortunately. Although I haven’t personally read it

For those unaware, Dipper goes to TacoBell is a Gravity Falls twincest fic that it’s infamous for being increasingly nasty

[losnordiquitos]

did yuo know,,,,,april is autism acceptance month!!!!!!!! can we see sweden being autistic

yaaaay, um !!! i feel like big part of sve being autistic is him being nonverbal/having selective mutism so i tried to give him an aac device for the drawing... happy autism acceptance month gang...

[phatcatphergus]

I think something so wonderful about sunny is that she is such a little girl. The admin that plays sunny does such a good job of giving her a distinct personality but in a way that everyone who was a little girl can identify with. I’ve seen so many people talk about how they acted like sunny did as a kid or would remember specific memories with their dad that they made as a kid that sunny and tubbos dynamic brought back to the surface.

Sunny being a little firecracker and “spoiled” girl while also being incredibly shy and kindhearted and wanting to be friends with everyone. The way she has an idea of what people like (money, fame, respect) and trying to demand that because she wants to be someone important and respected like a leader or princess would but still giving “poor” members diamonds to become rich because she would never want to turn away a potential friend.

It’s genuinely so sweet and beautiful that so many people can relive personal parts of their childhood as a little girl/kid and remember the good times and awkward time and see how they’ve grown as a person just from a Minecraft egg. It’s so fun to watch sunny interact with tubbo and think of how often I would “help” my dad with projects or how I would demand wearing a dress over a skirt because I wanted to look fancy for dinner.

It really just reminds me how we are all people and all experience similar things growing up. No one had the same situation, or the same family or even the same country, but we all had the same emotions and feelings and we can all identify with them by watching a Minecraft egg as silly as it sounds